


What Happens After?

by quinnpin (psychoticfire)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: "We'll do that together too" IS A THING, All of them get what they deserve, Alternate Ending, Alternate Ending - Endgame, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Friend, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Iron Dad & Spider Son (no starker fuck starker), Steve Rogers is a Good Friend, Tony Stark has healthy respect for Shuri, honestly this fic is filled with happy endings, how endgame should have ended, what we all needed after endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticfire/pseuds/quinnpin
Summary: AVENGERS: ENDGAME SPOILERSCarol was down. Steve was down. Everyone else was occupied.It was up to Tony. And he knew what he had to do.In which Tony Stark takes up the infinity stones into his suit, and wisely knows better than to take the whole brunt of the impact alone. "We'll do that together, too", right?Also, post-battle conversations and routines! Steve and Tony talk a few things out. Morgan meets Peter. And the Avengers... well, might as well grab a group dinner while they're all assembled, right?





	What Happens After?

The battlefield was chaotic, superheroes and Wakandan soldiers and Sanctum protectors alike clashing with the brutal alien army Thanos had set loose on Earth. Everywhere you looked, there was a body on the ground—a fallen soldier, a wounded hero, a dead alien, corpses strewn all over the rubble that was formerly their home base.

Tony Stark exhaled shakily, taking in the sight before him.

They were outgunned, outmanned, and outplanned. Even if the alien corpses lying dead on the ground outnumbered their own, Thanos’ army showed no sign of letting up. Enemy forces continued to spill out of the giant, foreign spaceship hovering above the ruins of the Avengers facility, each of them looking bigger and uglier than the last.

He groaned in pain, his ribs aching in protest even if he was just breathing normally. Tony had gotten thrown a distance away from his target—the big guy himself, Thanos—and the collision he’d had with the unforgiving ground hadn’t been light. At least he’d had his armor to protect him—Steve had probably gotten it way worse.

As he watched from his position on the ground, bleary and beaten up, Carol Danvers threw herself at Thanos, the golden aura around her glowing even brighter as she attacked. A small spark of hope bloomed in Tony’s chest—it was no big secret that Carol was the strongest of them all. If anyone could defeat Thanos by brawn alone, it would be her.

Tony’s gaze drifted from Carol for a split second, just enough to see Steve Rogers keeled over, no doubt still trying to recover from the vicious blow Thanos had dealt him before tossing him away like a rag doll. The captain seemed to be in pretty bad shape, if the super-soldier serum wasn’t having him back up and fighting. His broken shield was lying a few feet away from him, the cracked and halved vibranium circle looking pathetically fragile.

Then, Tony caught sight of Peter, the kid in his iron Spider-suit, still fighting his way through a mob of aliens, even without the weapons on his back to provide extra protection. Tony’s chest swelled with pride and worry, watching Peter web up two aliens and swing them around, Thor’s-hammer-style, to _whammo!_ the rest of the enemy horde and knock them out.

His eyes snapped back to Carol and Thanos, where the former had their enemy’s gauntlet restrained, rendering him incapable of snapping his fingers. Just as Tony started to exhale in relief, Thanos’ free hand went to the gauntlet, and—oh, _shit_.

Thanos pried the power stone from the metal’s hold and encased his free fist in the glowing purple aura, swinging a hard punch down towards Carol. He succeeded in violently knocking her a couple dozen feet away, her body punching through rubble and blasting through a couple of enemy alien groups.

She didn’t get back up—as per expected from someone who just got taken out by a literal blast of pure power.

Tony’s guts twisted with fear, and he lifted his head to meet someone else’s gaze on the other side of the battlefield. Dr. Strange was watching the situation unfold in a grim, resigned manner, and nodded once their eyes met—lifting up a single shaking finger in confirmation.

_Carol was down._

_Steve was down._

_Everyone else was occupied._

It was up to him.

And he knew what he had to do.

“FRIDAY, internal scan,” Tony mumbled, eyes flicking back to where Thanos was examining the infinity stone in his hand and dropping it back into the gauntlet.

“You’re in pretty bad shape, boss,” the A.I. inside his suit responded. “Two broken ribs, definitely some internal bleeding.”

“Nothing life-threatening?” Tony thought this question was slightly unnecessary, given that him and the rest of the universe were about to get DJ-snapped out of existence.

“Not immediately life-threatening, no,” FRIDAY responded. “But still, pretty bad.”

“Better than dead,” Tony muttered. He grimaced at the aching pain that started spreading through his limbs as he forced himself first into a kneeling position, then slowly getting upright and onto his feet. His suit was battered and so was his confidence, but as Thanos lowered the stone back into the gauntlet, he _moved_.

Thanos threw his head back in pain as power started to surge from the gauntlet throughout his body, visible veins of glowing lights snaking up his arm and neck. Before he could fully settle, though, Tony launched himself at him, first clenching his gauntlet-free arm and twisting it back behind the alien’s back, then making a desperate grab for the stones.

 _Now,_ he thought, closing his suit’s hand securely around the gauntlet, and feeling his suit’s internal mechanisms shift as his nano-tech went to work.

No more than three seconds later, Thanos’ arm wrenched free of Tony’s grip and he backhanded the man across his suit’s chestplate, violently sending the hero tumbling a few feet away, his ribs aching in protest. Tony groaned in pain and slight frustration—it _really_ was time to retire.

 _“Enough!”_ Thanos roared, his arm and neck no longer pulsing with veins of coursing power. Tony struggled to his feet—again—and his eyes fixed on Thanos, who lifted his hand with the gauntlet. The alien sent the battlefield one last smug look, almost as if assuring himself of his immediate success. “You cannot possibly hope to stop me. I hold the fate of the universe in my hands.” As if to emphasize his point, Thanos flexed his fingers.

“I,” Thanos said slowly, tilting his head slightly upwards, “am _inevitable_.” He closed his eyes.

And Thanos snapped his fingers, the metallic _snap_ ringing harshly throughout the battlefield.

A few seconds passed.

Thanos frowned, opening his eyes slowly. He took in his surroundings—completely unchanged. Not even the slightest hint of universal annihilation.

_Well, performance issues. You know?_

A look of total confusion crossed his face, and Thanos whipped his head around to face Tony, who was now standing straight and proud, his right arm held out. The glow of the infinity stones outlined his face as his suit’s nano-tech moved them into place, securing them tightly. Tony shot Thanos a small smirk.

The stones were secured, and a sudden jolt of mind-blowing agony ripped through Tony’s body. He froze, his back arching as power washed through his veins, burning his human body up from the inside.

Tony had known that the gauntlet’s power would’ve been too much for him to handle, but he’d been stubbornly clinging onto the hope that, you know, maybe _he_ , _Iron Man_ of all people, would be able to do it. But the pain was overwhelming, and Tony gasped, squeezing his eyes shut—he couldn’t handle it, couldn’t _possibly_ survive—

Suddenly, he felt someone else’s presence next to him. Tony opened his eyes, and saw Pepper, approaching quietly from his left. Even just the _sight_ of her soothed him immensely. Instinctively, he knew what she was doing—and he held his left arm out, his hand outstretched.

Pepper slipped her fingers into his, entwining their fingers securely, and a small scream of pain ripped out of her mouth. Tony panicked, trying to let go of her, but Pepper only squeezed Tony’s hand tighter, an aura of power washing over her as well.

_I’ve got you._

The two of them had come so far together in their journey—from the arrogant, headstrong CEO and a resigned secretary, to a messy relationship often interrupted by terrorist attacks, Extremist ambushes, and aliens, to husband and wife... and finally, _finally,_ to mother and father. Tony squeezed Pepper’s hand back, hoping that she could feel what he was trying to convey. A flurry of emotions, stirring in his chest, too intense and complex to be fully understood.

Pepper laced her fingers tighter around Tony’s, and he knew that she got it.

Feeling another person coming up to his right, Tony twisted his head. To his surprise, he saw Steve Rogers approaching—well, limping slightly, but approaching nonetheless—trudging up to his right. Steve’s face was caked with dirt and blood, but his stride was still as confident as ever—every bit the leader and captain people saw him to be.

_And I needed you._

Their eyes met, and Captain America held his hand out—a request, an apology, and a broken promise now fulfilled.

_You weren't there._

“Together,” Steve now said.

Not just a leader. Not just a captain.

A friend.

Tony opened his fist, the action almost making him dizzy—the stones were exerting a firm hold over his entire body, and all the power was originating from that fist. He held out his hand, the infinity stones glowing brightly.

“Together,” Tony agreed.

His hand closed around Steve’s, and the captain’s grip tightened around the gauntlet. Tony heard a gasp of surprised pain come from him, but Steve didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on the iron plating only tensed, the captain allowing the raw, unconstrained power from the gauntlet to course directly from Tony’s limb into his body.

The pain in Tony’s body lessened, and he managed a shaky inhale.

To his right, he saw Carol Danvers approach Pepper. The two of them exchanged nods as Carol slipped her fingers into Pepper’s, taking yet another brunt of the impact. Two of the strongest women Tony had ever known, working together.

His heart swelled with hope, and faith. Faith that he might actually be able to survive this.

Faith that he would get to see Morgan again.

To his left, the soldier that Steve seemed so attached to, his long brown hair a mess from the previous fight. Tony still didn’t trust him, didn’t trust the man who had assassinated his parents, but as Bucky Barnes closed his metal fingers around Steve’s free hand, wincing as the power washed over him, yet not backing away… Tony wondered if he’d misjudged the guy.

“’Till the end of the line,” Bucky said, his eyes meeting his friend’s. Steve managed a grin, and Tony saw their joined hands tighten more.

“’Till the end of the line,” the captain repeated.

Tony saw his friends and allies approaching, streaming in from all sides of the battlefield, and watched as Peter Parker took Carol’s hand, as T’Challa took Bucky’s, as Nebula took Peter’s, as Clint took the Wakandan king’s. Everyone was chipping in, even the animated tree, and Scott, the now regular-sized man.

The agony originally overwhelming his mind let up with every person that took up a hand in their rapidly growing chain, until the pain was significantly more bearable. Thanos was still standing where he’d failed to snap, watching in shock and knowing better than to now charge the wall of heroes. Behind and around them, the two clashing armies had stilled, as well.

The entire battlefield was holding its breath.

Tony glanced at Steve, who nodded and let go of Tony’s hand, only to grip the man’s wrist tightly—never breaking contact. Tony brought his right arm in front of him, meeting Thanos’ gaze.

_I am inevitable._

Shove it, Thanos.

“And _we_ ,” Tony started to say, glancing around him—seeing Peter gritting his teeth against the pain, Strange, who had abandoned his whirlpool-barricade to some other practitioners of the mystic arts, looking understandably anxious, and so many more other heroes, joining hands and absorbing the uncontained power of the infinity stones…

Sure, they had their differences. Sure, they beat each other up, occasionally. Sure, they had their misunderstandings, their fights, their problems. But at the end of the day, they were a team. All of them.

Tony looked out at his family. Human and alien and thunder god alike, standing their ground against the biggest threat the universe had ever faced. A cumulation of over ten years of fighting back-to-back, risking their necks for each other time after time, and friendships strengthened over time and conflict.

And Tony grinned.

“We are the Avengers.”

Tony Stark snapped his fingers.

* * *

 

They didn’t let each other go, even as Thanos’ army panicked and started to make mad, desperate dashes to attack the conjoined heroes, most of them fading to dust before even getting within arm’s reach.

Tony felt Pepper’s hand squeeze tightly around his as they watched Thanos look slowly around the battlefield, at his disintegrating armies. They watched as Thanos sat down on a piece of rubble, resigned—and finally, they watched as their enemy slowly morphed into dust and crumpled, his ashes carried away in a gentle breeze.

None of them let go.

* * *

 

When the dust had settled, and all traces of the invading alien hostiles wiped away, Tony let go of Pepper’s hand and promptly collapsed.

The heroes broke formation immediately, the majority of them rushing to Tony, and a few running to scout for their wounded brothers-in-arms. Tony mumbled, “Dislocate suit part A-3”, and the armor that encased his right fist, still fitted with infinity stones, unattached from the main suit of armor. Someone pulled it off—probably Peter.

Tony exhaled sharply and let his head fall back against the ground, his eyes fluttering close. Beside him, he could hear Pepper’s anxious voice.

“FRIDAY, internal scan,” she ordered.

“Mental discombobulation, a couple of broken ribs. He’s in shock right now,” the A.I. relayed. “But he’ll be alright.”

Muted cheers broke out around him, someone high-fiving another and undoubtedly a couple of fist-pumps happening. Tony groaned, the energy making him antsy, and shifted uncomfortably in his suit. “FRIDAY,” he managed, “Get me out of this.”

“Certainly, sir.” The suit popped open, and Tony almost sighed contentedly at the breeze of fresh (albeit alien-dust filled) air that washed over his now unprotected body.

“Tony. Tony, are you alright?”

Even with his eyes closed, Tony knew who that was. “Yeah, yeah, Cap, I’m good,” he muttered, the action of speaking taking a lot out of him. “Just—let me… sleep, for a while, yeah? Little cat-nap. Beauty sleep. Don’t get your American panties in a bunch.”

Steve’s voice seemed relieved and simultaneously amused. There was a pause before he said, “I’ll have you know that America’s ass will not take that sass.”

“You’re not dozing off,” Strange’s voice interrupted before Tony could fully interpret that sentence. The doctor was somewhere above him, and Tony made a face, still refusing to open his eyes. “Stark, if you fall asleep right now, there’s a high chance of you not waking up—or, at the very least, falling into a coma.”

“Coma sounds nice,” Tony slurred.

“Coma does not sound nice,” Steve said.

“You’re not the doctor,” Tony groaned.

“A coma is not nice,” Strange clarified.

“Shit,” Tony grumbled, grudgingly cracking his eyelids open. His vision was blurry, and he had to blink a couple of times before his view could focus enough to let him actually make out what was going on. He saw Pepper, Steve, Peter, and a few others standing in front of him, all of them looking considerably anxious.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed when Tony’s gaze landed on him. “You did it! I mean—we all did it, but _you_ did it! We won!”

Tony let out a small chuckle, nodding and groaning slightly in pain. “Yeah, kid. _We_ did it.”

“For a second there, I thought you were going to _die_ ,” Pepper accused. Tony met her gaze, his own sheepish. “I would’ve _killed_ you if you died.”

“Not sure that’s how it works,” Tony muttered. Pepper held out a hand, and Tony took it, letting her pull him to his unsteady feet. He swayed slightly, and immediately Steve was at his side, slinging one of Tony’s arms across his shoulders and supporting him upright.

“Steady,” Steve said. He was still wearing his broken shield.

“I feel like I have the right to be very unsteady right now,” Tony complained.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Strange said.

“And tell them what? ‘He held what was essentially the combined forces of all the power in the world in his hand, please fix him, he has health insurance’?” Tony blinked tiredly. “We all need medical assistance. We all held the stones.”

“Yes, but you did it directly,” Strange replied.

 _“Yes, but you did it directly,”_ Tony mocked. “You _literally_ wore one of them as a necklace for a couple of years, doc.”

Strange sighed, and after a few seconds, he left, muttering something about attending to people who actually _wanted_ assistance and grumbling something about how Tony probably wouldn’t like it if he woke up one day as a baby.

“I don’t think he likes you, Mr. Stark,” Peter observed.

“Yeah, well, he’ll get over it.” Tony yawned, rubbing at his right arm, which felt like it was burning up from the inside. “So what does a man have to do to be able to get some sleep around here, huh?”

“Even if it was okay for you to just hit the hay right now,” Bruce said, stepping up, holding his own arm gingerly as if it was in pain, “Where would you sleep? If you haven’t noticed, the base is trashed.”

Tony groaned. “Should’ve fixed that with the stones.”

“ _And_ there’s quite the amount of the wounded,” Steve added.

Tony eyed the gauntlet, abandoned on the ground. “You know…”

“No.”

_“Fine.”_

“What should we do with this?” Scott said, stepping out and kicking the gauntlet gently. “Lock it in a vault and throw away the key?”

“We have to return them,” Steve said. “And I’ll do it.”

“Woah there, Capsicle.” Tony held up a finger. “First off, you’re in _no_ shape to be throwing yourself into the quantum realm and trundling around the timelines right now.”

“ _Trundling_?” Steve echoed.

“It’s a real word, look it up. And _second_ off, we’re better off leaving that part to Strange. It’s his department, essentially.” Tony sighed. “He’s really living up to his namesake.”

Steve hesitated. “Fine.”

“If you and your fighters need someplace to stay,” T’Challa offered, the Wakandan king’s accent soothing and familiar as he walked towards Tony and the others, Dr. Strange in tow, “We will be glad to offer Wakanda as a refuge for as long as you need it.”

“How are you planning to get…” Pepper gestured to the vast battlefield, indicating the large amount of wounded heroes scattered around the field. “All of us there?”

“Uh, hello?” Strange said. “Mystic arts, mystic portals?”

“Right! Dr. Strange can make like, those spinning yellow things!” Peter said excitedly. “On a large scale, we could retreat, just like how we got here.”

“Spinning yellow things,” Strange repeated, slightly incredulously. “Yeah. Those.”

“Yeah, could you…” Tony twirled his finger in a circle. “Make some, right about now? Because some of us are dying, and I _really_ want a nice bed right now. Pretty please?”

Strange bent down and scooped up the new infinity gauntlet, now battered and almost falling apart, tucking it under his arm. “Geniuses,” he grumbled to himself. “Always so full of themselves.”

The Supreme Sorcerer— _seriously_ , what did one have to do to get a name like that? It’s like calling yourself _El Numero Uno—_ turned, and lifted his free hand, a spark of red flaring from his fingertips—a signal, Tony realized, as numerous other wizards lifted their hands and started to form portals.

A large one opened up in front of Tony and the rest, and Tony gazed through it to see tall, advanced buildings glowing with self-renewing energy and what seemed to be high-tech sonic transmission lines coursing through what he could see of the city.

“That’s Wakanda?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his tone. Of course, Tony had known that Wakanda couldn’t have been the undeveloped African nation that everyone had painted it to be, all those years, but he hadn’t expected something so… _modern_ and well-developed, and certainly not on such a large scale.

“Yes, and you can close your mouth now, colonizer,” a new voice rang out, also with the affects of a Wakandan accent. Tony turned to see Shuri, the princess walking towards them with pride in her stance. “I developed most of the tech myself. It is advanced, and certainly not like what you’ve been expecting.” Her tone was just slightly defensive.

“No, no, I believe that,” Tony said quickly, squinting to see more details of the city as they stepped through. They were all suddenly bathed in golden light—Wakanda had no lack of natural sunlight, it seemed—and Tony’s eyes widened at a faint view of a gleaming lab in the distance. “Is that your lab?”

“Yes,” Shuri replied. “Built it from a vibranium base. I drew the blueprints.”

Tony couldn’t help but gape. “How—How old are you again?”

“Fifteen.”

The billionaire’s jaw dropped impossibly wider. “Holy shit.”

Shuri grinned. “Do you want a tour of the lab?”

“Do I—God, _yes_ ,” Tony said firmly. “Yes. _Please_. As _soon_ as Kitty-Paws there gets me a bed, and I get some good sleep for the first time in five years.”

“I do not…” T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “Kitty-Paws?”

Throwing her head back and laughing, Shuri clapped her brother on his back and fought to catch her breath. “Oh my God. _Kitty-Paws.”_

Turning to Strange, T’Challa asked, “How soon can we send them back?”

Strange sighed. “I can open up a portal right now. I’ll even forego travelling taxes.”

“Interdimensional travelling taxes?” Steve shifted his weight, allowing Tony to stand more on his own feet. “Really?”

“This isn’t your domain, Captain,” Strange replied.

“My name is Captain America. I _literally_ am the face of the nation with ridiculous tax laws.”

As Tony absentmindedly wondered when and how Steve had turned from the righteous and respectful Captain America into a very mouthy, sassy, clean-shaven middle-aged captain, a Wakandan warrior came up to T’Challa.

“Ah, Okoye,” the king said. “Not too many wounded, I hope?”

The woman made a face. She seemed regal, but also lethal—there was something in the way she held herself, like she was a loaded gun ready to spring. “There are more than we’d like. But at least there aren’t as many dead.”

T’Challa didn’t seem to react to those words, although Tony saw the flinch in the king’s eyes. “Do we have enough medics?”

“Not as many as there should be, but we’ll make do. Also…” Okoye held her wrist out, displaying the bracelet around her arm, and flicked a bead to roll into her palm, the small orb glimmering and showing a holographic pop-up of what looked like global statistics. “The world population seems to have been restored. I thought you might like to know.”

“Oh, thank god,” Bruce said, wincing as he gingerly moved his right arm. “At least my efforts didn’t go to waste. Hey, do you guys, by any chance, have a really, really big Band-Aid?”

“Someone get him medical attention,” T’Challa said, glancing up and down Bruce’s heavily scarred Hulk body. “As soon as possible.”

“And someone get me a bed,” Tony put in, ignoring the glare Steve sent him. “Literally, _right_ now.”

T’Challa sighed. “Get him a bed and a medic.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Tony said, as Bruce was escorted away.

“How about you, Captain?” the king asked, regarding the man still currently supporting more than half of Tony’s weight. “Any injuries you would like us to take care of?”

“No, I’m fine,” Steve said, but there was an underlying tone of pained strain in his voice.

“He is not fine,” a new voice said, and Steve’s face notably brightened when Bucky approached them. “He is very not fine.”

“C’mon, Buck, I’ve been in worse scrapes,” Steve protested.

“You have not.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Name _one other time_ you got beaten up as much as you just did by Thanos and his army. And the diner back in Brooklyn does _not_ count.”

Steve paused.

“Thanos’ _entire_ goddamn army, Steve.”

“Fine,” the captain sighed. He straightened up and gently leaned Tony onto Bucky, a situation in which neither of them were particularly happy about, but couldn’t help as A) Tony still wasn’t capable of standing and B) Bucky was right next to him, and in considerably okay shape.

Of course, Bucky could have just stepped aside and let Tony fall. But he didn’t. Somewhere in the back of Tony’s exhausted and still slightly shocked mind, he thought that was very considerate of Steve’s not-boyfriend.

As the two of them uncomfortably waited, Steve unstrapped his shield from his arm, wincing as he did so, and let the broken metal drop to the ground. A couple of long, vicious wounds raked up the side of his arm, caked over with dried blood, and Tony whistled. “Cap, if you hadn’t pulled your shield so tight, your arm would’ve fallen apart.”

“That’s why I tightened it,” Steve said. Bucky sighed. “The serum’s working pretty fast already anyway—these won’t take long to heal, so there’s really no worry.”

“And you don’t have any other wounds?” T’Challa pressed.

Steve hesitated. “Some, maybe.”

The king activated his own bracelet. Tony made a mental note to ask details about that specific piece of technology—a holographic transmitting device with real-time projections and reports, all encased in such a small orb. It was similar to his nano-tech, but unlike his nano-tech, Wakanda’s devices all seemed to be pre-assembled and made fully accessible to anyone who needed it.

“Get me Nakia,” T’Challa said to the person on the other side of the transmission. The girl nodded, and the bead rolled back into place on the king’s wrist. “I’ll get the two of you my best healer. And mind you, treat her with respect.”

“Or…?” Tony couldn’t help but ask.

Bucky snorted, the first time Tony’s actually seem some genuine amusement or general emotion from the former assassin. “Or she’ll kick your ass. I’ve met Nakia. Healthy respect, right there.”

“Warning duly noted,” Tony said. “Healthy fear established.”

“And you,” T’Challa said, addressing Bucky, “Get to Shuri’s lab if you don’t have any immediate wounds.”

“You know, I never got why they said _immediate wounds_ instead of just… _wounds_ ,” Tony said. “It’s not like there’s… slow-acting wounds. What, you come out of a battle completely unscarred, you’re all ‘I’m fine, don’t worry’, and a few days later you wake up and there’s a stab wound in your stomach?”

“One day, you’re going to wake up, and there’s going to be a stab wound in your stomach, and no one’s going to know how it got there,” Bucky muttered. “Can you stand on your own?”

“I can sit.” Tony did exactly that, his ribs aching as he eased himself off of the super-soldier and sat down on the hard-packed dirt of Wakanda. “It’s good on the ground. I’m good here. Maybe I’ll get a little catnap—no joke intended. Go get yourself checked out, Robocop.”

“Robocop?” Bucky echoed.

“Robocop!” Steve pointed at Tony, then at his other friend, looking pleased with himself. “I understood that. I got that.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but it was in good nature. Bucky looked slightly confused and more than a little exasperated, but he reached out to Steve and gave the captain a hug before leaving, undoubtedly heading for the shiny lab Tony desperately wanted a tour of.

“Ah, Nakia,” T’Challa said, interrupting the moment. Tony turned to see who he was addressing, finding a Wakandan woman dressed in green robes approaching them, assessing the situation. “Good of you to finally join us.”

“Your Majesty,” the woman—Nakia—said with familiarity and more than a little teasing lilt in her voice. Tony watched as T’Challa winced—the title seeming to make him slightly shifty. “Are these the ones requiring medical attention?”

“Yes.” T’Challa cleared his throat. “If you will excuse me, I have to take my leave. The Council might want to talk with me.”

Steve tilted his head. “Do you need company?”

“I think the king of Wakanda will suffice for now, captain,” T’Challa said. “Get some rest. We will talk later. All of us.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Steve stepped back, turning to Nakia. “I have some wounds, but my friend needs immediate attention. He wielded the gauntlet.”

“For the last time, Cap, we all wielded the gauntlet. It was a team effort.” Tony tilted his head back and groaned. “But, yeah, either coffee or rest would be really nice right about now.”

Nakia regarded both of them with a steely professional gaze. “Follow me. I will show you to your rooms and I will treat you there.”

Tony and Steve exchanged a look. The latter nodded, and the former shrugged.

“Well, what you waitin’ for then?” Tony asked, gesturing to himself. “Help me up here, Capsicle.”

**Author's Note:**

> come hang with me on my tumblr sideblog [@starkscape!](https://starkscape.tumblr.com)  
> i post about all things marvel related! chat w me about ships and theories and stuff!!


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